Coming of Age
By: Brock Archer
(© 2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 28 

When the courtesy van deposited us at the Marriott Hotel, we were met by, of all people, Rob Palmer. “I was in Brussels when Mike called yesterday,” he told us, “so I caught the first plane I could get and flew over to make sure that everything would be in order. Before you go to your rooms, could I show you the conference room we’ve arranged for you?”

The room was spacious, with a conference table containing multiple jacks and electrical outlets for laptops. At each end of the room were two other long tables, one for coffee and snacks, and another one for sorting and collating papers. There were phones, two printers, and a cabinet containing printing paper and an array of office supplies. There was an electronic white board, and the walls were decorated with local, country, and world maps. A door led to an adjacent room set up like a parlor with comfortable chairs arranged in pairs or small clusters for chatting or just relaxing.

“This is fantastic,” said Mike, “even better than we could have hoped for.”

“Well, if you need anything else,” said Rob, “just ask.”

And just then, the bell captain approached Rob and said something to him. “Your rooms are ready,” he announced. When we walked out of the conference room, we were met by a platoon of bellboys, who escorted us to our respective rooms, suites actually, where we found our luggage already delivered.

The very cute bellboy who escorted Troy and me to our suite called us by name and said how honored the hotel was to have us as guests. He asked if we needed anything and assured us that he was available to meet our every need. When he reached the door, he stopped. “What is it, Matteo (the name on his tag)?”

“Forgive me, sir,” he said to Troy. “I hope I am not too forward. My boyfriend and I saw you perform at the Pride Festival yesterday, and he can’t stop watching your videos. Would it be possible to get your autograph for him?”

“What’s his name?” asked Troy.

“Tommaso,” he replied.

Troy asked Matteo to wait for just a minute while he went into our bedroom. A minute or so later, he came back with two pairs of designer underwear, one autographed for Tommaso and one for Matteo. “Will these do?” asked Troy as he handed the souvenirs to the bellboy.

Matteo went almost apoplectic with joy. He thanked Troy profusely until Troy finally said, “And stop calling me ‘sir.’ My name is Troy.”

“Yes, sir…I mean, thank you, sir…I mean, Troy. Thank you. Tommaso will be thrilled.”

Troy grabbed Matteo and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Matteo. I really appreciate your support. And please give this to Tommaso for me,” he added, just before he planted a big kiss on Matteo’s lips.

Matteo was too stunned to even move, so Troy opened the door for him and said, “Please bring Tommaso by sometime. I would like to thank him too.”

After Matteo left, I said to Troy, “Jeez, man. You didn’t have to do all that. He would have jumped into bed with you at the drop of a blue handkerchief.”

“That wasn’t about sex,” said Troy, almost scolding me. “He and his boyfriend are fans. I am grateful to have fans.”

We had one hour for lunch before Troy had to meet with Maria again to select the songs they would perform on Silvana’s show, but we were still stuffed from breakfast, so we decided to skip lunch and just snack on the fruit the management had placed in our suite until dinner. Troy went downstairs to meet with Maria at 2:00, and I didn’t see him again until dinner. I called The Flirt to let him and the rest of the gang know that we had changed hotels.

Rob joined us for dinner on Mike’s invitation, and we were all glad that he did. I liked Rob right off the bat, but I think Troy was a bit skeptical since Rob seemed to be taking an interest in Troy’s mother. Troy had come around, though, and I think he was actually hoping that his mother would find new happiness with Rob.

“This is going to be our time every night to get together, review what’s happened, and share our plans for the next steps,” said Mike, “so don’t make other plans, guys. You’re needed here. In fact, don’t make plans to go out after dinner. If you’re not needed here, you’ll be free to go, but this is now your number one priority.”

“Not to sound stupid or insensitive, but did it really take you guys all afternoon to pick out three songs?” I asked Troy and Maria.

Maria explained that they had brainstormed dozens of titles from a wide variety of genres. They had to consider who might be in the audience, but they also wanted to demonstrate Troy’s range and versatility. They also had to plan for contingencies. What if they want an encore? What if they got cut short for some reason? Eventually, they settled on three songs: “O Sole Mio,” the traditional Italian favorite, “All I Ask of You” from The Phantom of the Opera, and Lonestar’s pop-country hit “Amazed.”

“You had Armando film Troy singing “O Sole Mio” during our photo shoot in Rome,” I observed.

“Yes, and we also recorded it here last week,” Troy reminded us.

“It was part of my long-term plan,” said Maria. “I wanted to put together a very nice video that we could use to introduce you to the world, but I had planned to take our time and do it very professionally. We may still do that, but for now, we need to throw it together and get it out on the Internet before Saturday night. It may look a little amateurish, but so do all the other videos that are out there right now.”

“But why that song?” I asked.

“The other videos appeal to a very small demographic,” explained Maria. “This song has very wide appeal, especially in Italy. If we can get it out there before Saturday, it may help drive up the TV audience.”

“What’s more,” added Mike, “that video is likely to appeal to lots of potential sponsors.”

On Monday morning, at Maria’s request, Guiseppe, the language mentor, joined us for breakfast. She had already called to brief him on the change in plans for the week, but his participation was now needed in working out the details. “We want to get these guys out in public,” said Maria. “We want them to be seen, especially by people who might have watched the videotapes or seen Troy sing at the Gay Pride Festival.”

“One place you’ll find young people,” said Guiseppe, “is colleges and universities—not just on the campuses, but in the cafes and shops around them.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” said Maria. “Let’s do that today.”

“We also want to link them to potential sponsors,” said Mike.

“We could go to Quadrilatero d’Oro,” suggested Guiseppe.

“What’s that?” I asked.

 “It’s a shopping district,” said Guiseppe, “where all the fashion houses have their flagship stores. It’s also called Quadrilatero della Moda, Rectangle of Fashion.”

“Perfect,” said Mike. “Let’s plan on that for Tuesday morning,” and he asked Guiseppe to join us for dinner again Monday night to work out more details.

“What can I do today to help?” I asked.

“You go with Troy and Guiseppe this morning,” instructed Mike. “Meet me back here for lunch. I have something I need your help with this afternoon.” Naturally I was curious about what that something was, but before I could ask, Maria spoke up.

“Mike, Rob, and I will go through all those messages you got yesterday--”

“And there were more this morning,” interrupted Rob.

“…and I’ll meet you at the Academy this afternoon to start working on the songs for Silvana’s show Saturday.”

As we walked the neighborhoods around the University of Milan and Bocconi University, Troy was approached for autographs from a number of students (and even professors) who had seen his videos or watched him perform at the Pride Festival. Fortunately, being students or faculty, they inevitably carried papers of some sort, so Troy didn’t have to take off his underwear to autograph for them.

I left Troy and Guiseppe at a café near the University of Milan and went back to the hotel to meet up with Mike. When he ushered me into the hotel shuttle, I asked where we were going, and he simply replied, “Reinforcements. You’ll see.”

“What about lunch?” I asked.

“Patience,” he said, “Patience.”

I was surprised when the shuttle dropped us off at the airport. Are we going somewhere or picking up something—or someone? After checking the arrivals board, Mike led the way to a baggage carousel, and as he scouted the crowd for someone, I heard a voice over my shoulder, “Forgotten me already, huh?” I turned and was shocked to see Johnny standing there. It had only been three weeks since we went our separate ways from Rome, but it seemed like a lifetime. I attacked him with a ferocious bear hug and squeezed until he begged me to let go.

“What are you…I mean, why are you…how did you….?” I fumbled.

“Mike called and said someone needs to come and rescue you from your sudden onset of aphasia, so here I am.”

I wanted to get Johnny back to the hotel so we could get caught up, but Mike said we had to wait for one more person. Just as I was about to ask who that was, I spotted a familiar face approaching from the baggage carousel.

“Armando, what are you…how did you…?”

“Oh, don’t start that again,” Johnny scolded.

As we rode the shuttle back to the Marriott, Mike explained that he wanted Johnny to participate in the show on Saturday night as well as some other promotional activities and that Armando was here not only to see that we were properly dressed, but also to call on his extensive network of influential contacts to assist in our publicity efforts.

When we got back to the hotel, Rob greeted us and had Johnny’s and Armando’s bags taken to their rooms. Then, he led us to a private dining room off of the main restaurant, where we had a delicious lunch of Cotoletta alla Milanese (veal with risotto). Before taking Armando and Johnny to their suites, Rob showed them the “war room” that had been setup for us, and along the way, he pointed out some of the works of art that he had purchased for the hotel from Armando’s studio, not only photographs, but also sculptures and paintings.

Johnny’s suite was right next to the one that Troy and I shared, and, as before, Rob had already had his bags delivered to his room. Johnny and I spent the rest of the afternoon getting caught up. He wanted to hear all about the week that my family had spent in Ireland as well as the past two weeks in Milan, and I wanted to hear about his trip to Denmark, Sweden, and Norway. When Troy came in from his afternoon at the academy, he was as thrilled as I was to see Johnny, who had to repeat for him everything he had just spent four hours telling me.

Johnny told us about going to Tivoli Park in Copenhagen and seeing the statue of The Little Mermaid in the harbor. He said he was surprised at how little it was. “Wait,” I said, “are we still talking about the statue or about your dick?”

Johnny described the cruise they had taken from Copenhagen to Oslo and how impressed he was with the fjords as they cruised into the Norwegian capital. He also raved about the Viking Ship Museum there and the one in Stockholm. And he told Troy that he would love to go back to Oslo and take him to the Opera House, which sits right on the harbor.

Johnny also described his visits to Gamla Stan (Old Town) in Stockholm and the Nobel Museum, where he said he expects to see my name on a plaque there someday after I win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

I asked him if he came across Britta and Inga, the two Swedish college students we had met in Hawaii, and he said he did not but that he found “no shortage of shield-maidens (female Viking warriors) who were eager to do battle with my Viking spear. They liked to call me ‘Thor,’” he boasted.

I told Johnny about my delightful trip to Ireland, including the afternoon I spent at the frat house. He listened politely as I described the red-headed frat boys, but he really perked up when I mentioned that one of them had brought his girlfriend into the action. I could just see the wheels in his head spinning as he imagined all the possible configurations.

Johnny asked Troy about his three weeks thus far in Milan, and Troy told him all about his language and music lessons. “But what about the sex?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, I’ve joined a monastery and become celibate,” he claimed, which compelled Johnny to tackle him and wrestle him to the floor. At one point, I was afraid that Johnny was actually going to fuck Troy to prove that he wasn’t celibate. Johnny let him up only when Troy promised to spill the beans about his sexual adventures, and there was a lot to spill. Troy and I told Johnny about The Outlaws and our visit to the gay bars, including Dante’s Inferno. Johnny had already heard from Mike and Rob about Troy’s Italian debut as a sexy singer, which is what brought him back to Italy, but he seemed to enjoy hearing the first-hand account from Troy and me.

Johnny reported that he had been in touch with many of our teammates even though football practice hadn’t started yet. They had grilled him about Greece and Rome and wanted to know if we would be back in time for football camp. He assured them that we would, but “I told them that I can’t guarantee that Troy will be able to walk.

“They kept bugging me about seeing pictures from our modeling gigs and any new underwear we might have accumulated, both of which arrived about 10 days ago, by the way,” he told us. “So, I invited the guys over to have a look, and after I set aside the underwear that I wanted to keep, I let them pick over the rest.

“Oh, and there’s gonna be a new guy on the team,” said Johnny. “His name’s Sam, and he’s a sophomore whose family just moved to Hilldale from Chicago. Never played football before—at least, not on a team anyway—but Coach says he has potential. He’s not sure which position he wants to put him at, so he wants to try him out as backup for each of us, and I assured him that we would help the kid any way we can.”

“Cool,” said Troy.

“And I think he plays for your team, Troy.”

“My team?”

“Yeah, when he was looking at the new modeling pictures from Greece, he seemed more interested in checking out us than the girls. And when the guys started trying on the various underwear, I think he started to get a boner. I didn’t want to see him get embarrassed, so I pretended to get a hard-on myself, and it wasn’t long before all of us were stroking.”

“Is he cute?” Troy asked, only half joking.

“Nah,” replied Johnny with all the irony he could muster. “He just looks like I imagine Denzel Washington looked at 16.”

“God, I miss those circle jerks,” I interjected, and all of a sudden all three of us started chanting, “Circle jerk, circle jerk, circle jerk.”

To be continued...

Posted: 05/14/2021